


When One Door Opens

by eternaleponine



Series: Where There Is A Flame [30]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dysfunctional Family, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-31 19:55:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15126743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eternaleponine/pseuds/eternaleponine
Summary: Before the wedding, Echo sent a letter to her parents telling them about her farm and her new family.  They responded offering goats.  Will they understand that her acceptance of the gift isn't an invitation back into her life?





	When One Door Opens

Echo sighed and cracked open her eyes as Luna's fingers traced up her spine before flattening between her shoulder blades, warmth radiating from her palm and easing the tension there before it had a chance to dig in its claws. She lifted her head and tugged on her pillow so that they could share it, forehead to forehead and nose to nose. 

How many of their most important conversations had they had like this, pressed close together in the dark? 

It was easier to say things – real things, difficult things – when you didn't have to see how they landed, maybe. Or maybe it just felt safe, wrapped in blankets and each other, and that let them say the things that they couldn't face in the light. 

"Tell me," Luna whispered. 

"I love you," Echo said, which wasn't what Luna was looking for, but it was true anyway, and just as important as anything else she had to say. 

"I know that," Luna said, "although I did appreciate the hands-on demonstration." 

Echo laughed and kissed her, quick and soft, feeling Luna's smile against her lips. "So did I," she said. She nuzzled against her cheek, sighing again. "I still don't know if I made the right choice, but it's too late now to take it back."

"Is it?" Luna asked. 

Echo nodded. "It's a long drive. They already left."

"Are they driving through the night?" Luna asked.

"No, they're stopping."

She could feel Luna's brow wrinkling against hers. "Where does one stop with a trailer full of goats? I don't think any hotel allows livestock as guests." 

Echo laughed again, and felt another bubble of worry burst, because how bad could anything be when this was the woman that she got to spend the rest of her life with? Whatever happened when her parents arrived tomorrow was temporary. _This_ was forever. "They made arrangements with a farm along the way. Friend of a friend, I think, who was willing to give them barn space for the night." Her lips quirked. "And a room to stay in," she added, before Luna could ask if they would have to stay in the barn, too. Which she would know wasn't the case, but she would ask just to make Echo smile. 

She felt Luna's breath against her cheek, a soft exhalation of a laugh, but Echo could feel the way she stilled as the mirth subsided and she grew serious again. "You said you wanted closure."

"I did," Echo said. "I do." She hooked one leg over Luna's, pulling her in just a little closer. "I'm afraid I won't get it. I'm afraid there's no such thing, or that... that they'll think this is something that it isn't." 

"You told them," Luna said. "You made it clear."

Echo snorted. "You haven't met my parents," she said. 

"Nor will I, unless you've changed your mind about that," Luna said. No judgment, just a statement of fact. They'd talked about – really Echo had talked about it, around and around in circles with the therapist she'd finally admitted she needed to see, and then with Luna – and Luna had said she was fine with Echo's decision to meet with her parents on her own, and to not allow them to meet her new family. 

She'd said it, but...

Echo forced herself to stop that train of thought before it got going. Her trust issues were another major topic of conversation in her weekly appointments, and one of the things that she was working on was taking people who had never shown themselves to be anything but honest at their word. Including Luna. Especially Luna. If she couldn't trust her _wife_ to say what she meant and mean what she said, what hope did they have?

"Tell me again what you said," Luna prompted. 

"I told them that I was grateful for their generosity, and that it would mean a lot to me to be able to start my farm with stock from the one where I grew up," Echo said. "And I told them that I wanted to accept it, but in order for me to do so, it had to be with the understanding that there would be no strings attached to it. I reminded them that they had always taught me that a gift was a gift, and that it should always be given with no expectation of receiving anything in return. That if something was truly a gift, the giver was owed nothing, including gratitude. I told them that if they were offering me the goats because they thought it would be a bridge back into my life, that I was going to say thank you, but no thank you."

"And they agreed to this," Luna said.

"Yes."

"But?"

Echo opened her eyes to look into Luna's. "But I'm afraid that they think I'm going to change my mind when I see them again."

Luna's eyes were dark pools. "And?"

"And I'm afraid I might."

"What are you afraid will happen if you do?" Luna asked. 

Echo's eyes stung. "They'll hurt me again." She swallowed hard. "Even if I don't... I'm afraid they'll still hurt me again. That this will just tear open old wounds instead of healing them." 

Luna nodded. She lifted a hand to stroke Echo's hair and kissed her eyelids and then her lips, and Echo tasted the salt of her tears on them. "Sometimes it's necessary," she said. "Sometimes you have to reopen a wound to clean it so that it can heal properly. Otherwise it just festers under the surface and eats away at you, steals your vitality little by little until you can't ignore it anymore."

"Which is where I am now," Echo said, letting out a slow breath. "It's going to hurt, but that's okay, because sometimes it has to get worse before it can get better. It's going to hurt, and I'm going to let it. I am stronger than this pain."

"Yes," Luna said, kissing her again, and a third time. "You are. And you're not alone."

* * *

" _Guten Morgen, mein Schatz,_ " Luna whispered, her breath tickling Echo's ear. " _Wach auf._ "

" _Nein,_ " Echo grumbled, extricating an arm from under the blankets and pulling Luna down to her. " _Es ist zu früh_ "

" _Wach auf,_ " Luna repeated, rubbing her nose against Echo's and kissing her. " _Komm mit mir._ "

" _Ich kann kein Deutsch verstehen, wenn die Sonne nicht scheint,_ " Echo told her. 

Luna laughed. " _Das ist der Punkt,_ " she said. " _Wir werden es begrüßen._ "

Echo groaned. "You realize that I grew up on a _commune_ , with a bunch of _hippies_ , and I never did sunrise yoga, right? Not once."

"There's a first time for everything," Luna said. " _Bitte?_ "

Echo shook her head, but she pushed aside the covers and sat up. "You're lucky I love you so much," she said.

"I know," Luna said. She slid off the bed and held out her hands. Echo took them and let herself be pulled down the stairs and out to the front lawn. The grass was still damp with dew, cool under their bare feet. 

"Mind if we join you?" Ontari asked, appearing in the doorway less than a minute later, her arm around a slightly dazed-looking Adria. 

"We don't mind at all," Luna answered. "Come on." She held her hand out and Adria came and took it, wrapping her arms around Luna and leaning into her. Luna rubbed her back and kissed her head. "Do you remember?" she asked her.

"Um... most of it?" Adria said. "I think."

"If you forget just take a peek at everyone else."

Which now included Lexa, who had already gone for a morning run, and a far less awake Clarke and Madi. Echo narrowed her eyes, suspecting that this had all been planned. She didn't say anything, though, because the truth was she appreciated it. They didn't have to get up this early, but they had, to be part of this... ritual, or whatever it was supposed to be, to get what promised to be a difficult day off to a calm, peaceful start.

Echo hadn't done a lot of yoga in her life, but the movements of the Sun Salutation came back to her when she got going and she was able to keep up with Luna (the only one who _really_ knew what she was doing) without wobbling too much. They went through the pattern four times, twice on each side, and then took a few minutes just to breathe and center themselves before breaking apart to do whatever needed doing – a shower for Lexa, collecting the eggs from the coop for Adria and Madi, and getting breakfast started for everyone else. 

She tried to focus on the moment, being in it and not thinking about what might happen when her parents arrived in a few hours, but it was hard, especially with Ontari stealing looks at her every few minutes. When Adria left the table to go get changed for her swimming lesson and Luna went to find her a clean towel, Echo finally rolled her eyes at her. "I'm okay," she said. 

"I can stay," Ontari said. "If you want me to."

"You have work," Echo pointed out. "You just started. How would it look if you called out already?"

"Family emergency," Ontari said.

"It's not an emergency," Echo told her. "It's... something I have to do, but I'm going to be okay."

Ontari frowned, the corner of her mouth denting in as she bit the inside of her lip. She didn't have to say it for Echo to know what she was thinking: _What if you're not?_

Echo stood up, then pulled Ontari up into a hug. "If they hadn't done what they'd done, I wouldn't have you," she whispered. "I don't know how seeing them again is going to make me feel, but whatever it is, it's not stronger that how much I love you, and Luna, and Adria. You are my best things." 

Ontari locked her arms around her, pressing her face hard into Echo's collarbone, and Echo let her hold on as tight as she needed for as long as she needed. She knew where this was coming from, after all. "I love you too," Ontari finally mumbled before pulling away. 

Echo caught her and kissed her head. "I'll text you as soon as they're gone, all right? I'll send you pictures of the goats." 

Ontari wrinkled her nose and rolled her eyes. "I don't care about the goats," she grumbled. "But fine."

"Go get ready for work," Echo said. "I'll pack your lunch."

"I'm not in kindergarten!" Ontari laughed. 

Echo raised an eyebrow. "So I shouldn't pack it in the monster lunch bag?"

"I didn't say that," Ontari said. 

"That's what I thought."

* * *

The truck turned into the driveway, and although it probably wasn't one of the ones from when she'd still lived on the farm, it looked the same as the ones she remembered. The trailer it towed was probably older than she was. She quickly smoothed her hair back, making sure there weren't any stray bits of hay in it, and went to greet her parents. 

Her father rolled down the window as they pulled up. "Where do you want it?" he asked. 

"By the barn," she said. "I figure we can get them settled in there a bit before setting them loose." 

He nodded and drove where she pointed. For half a second she was tempted to grab onto the edge of the open window and hop onto the running board to go along for the ride like she had when she was younger, but she kept her feet firmly on the ground, walking behind the truck and trailer. She caught up to them as her parents were getting out. 

"You have something we can use for temporary fence?" her mother asked. "We can just create a chute from the trailer into the barn." 

"Yeah," Echo said. "Hold on." She went into the barn and found some stakes and a roll of orange plastic temporary fencing, and they created a path for the goats to follow that would take them into the barn. From there it would just be a matter of getting them into their stall, which was less pressing as long as they were contained. 

"Ready?" her father asked. 

"Go ahead," she said. 

He opened the trailer, and a minute later half a dozen goats came trampling down the ramp, bumping and nudging each other as they made their way through the plastic corridor and into semi-freedom, voicing their opinions about the long trip as loudly as they could. 

"I'll be right back," Echo said, and went to the house to let out Kodi, who she'd left inside because she didn't want to risk him getting in the way while they worked. He loped ahead of her as she went back to the barn, probably smelling the new arrivals and wanting to see what he was up against. She let him into the barn, and he immediately went to inspect the goats before flopping down and letting them do the same to him. 

"Pyr?" her mother asked.

Echo nodded. "Kodiak. Kodi."

Her mother nodded. "Good dogs."

"He is," Echo said. "Ad—" She stopped herself. She wasn't sure she wanted to bring up Adria, or anyone else, with them. This wasn't about letting them in. Usually people said when one door closes, another one opens. This was the opposite. A door had opened – the door to her future – and before she could let herself walk fully through it, she needed to close the one to her past once and for all. 

"You remember how to milk?" her father asked. 

"I think so," Echo said. 

"Best get to it, then," he said. "They've been waiting all morning."

"Right," Echo said. She grabbed the first goat by its collar and put it up on the milking table. The muscle memory for this was even stronger than for Sun Salutation, and within a few minutes they had milked all six goats and let them loose again. 

"I'll check the fences," her father said, "before you let them loose."

Echo knew the fences were fine. She'd checked them already this morning, and twice yesterday, testing them for any possible weaknesses that the goats could – and would, if given the opportunity – exploit. "Go ahead," she said, because she knew that he would do it anyway, and maybe because she wanted to prove to him that she knew what she was doing. 

"It's good to see you," her mother said when he was gone. "It's been—"

"Whose fault is that?" Echo asked before she could finish. "It's been so long, too long, whatever you were going to say. Whose. Fault. Is. That?"

Her mother blinked at her. "You're the one who stopped contacting us," she said. "We—"

"You weren't even talking to me," Echo said. "Didn't you think it was strange that I _never_ called? That I only ever texted?"

"I just thought that's what kids these days did," her mother said. "You always had some reason you couldn't call, and we were trying to respect your independence."

"I was _fifteen_ ," Echo snapped. "I shouldn't have _had_ that kind of independence to respect! It doesn't matter how smart I was, how mature I was... none of that matters because I was _fifteen_ and you let. me. go." She swallowed hard. "It wasn't me you were talking to. I don't even know _who_ it was. Somebody who worked for the woman who took me in, I assume. The woman who kept me from ending up a statistic, or worse, a headline. But you didn't care. I told you I was fine, and you wanted to believe it, so you did. But I guess in the end you win, because I _am_ fine now. I'm better than fine."

"I can see that," her mother said. "This place looks beautiful. I can tell how much attention you paid to the details and how much love you put into it."

Echo bit the inside of her cheek. That hadn't been the response she was expecting. She'd expected her mother to snap back at her, maybe, or try to defend herself. "This is my home," she said when she was sure her voice would be steady. "Mine and my family's." 

"All of the people in the letter."

Echo nodded. "Not all of them live here," she said. "Not yet. Maybe someday. But yes, all of the people in the letter. They're my family now. Because they won't _ever_ let me go." She rubbed at the scar on her left wrist without thinking. 

"That's good," her mother said. "I'm glad that you found a place to belong." She looked around again. "I can't say that this is what I imagined for you," she said. "I thought you left because you hated all of this."

Echo shook her head. "I didn't hate it," she said. "Or maybe I did at the time, but that wasn't really what it was about. It was..." She frowned. "My world was so small. You kept it _so small_ , but I knew that there was more out there, and if I stayed I would never see it. I felt like I was suffocating."

"You think we didn't know that?" her mother asked. "You think we couldn't see that?"

"I didn't think you saw me at all," Echo said. "If you saw it, why didn't you _do_ something?"

"We did!" her mother said. "You said you wanted to go, and we let you!" She shook her head. "You can't have it both ways, Echo. You can't hate us for making your world small, and hate us for letting you go, too."

"Yes, I can," Echo said. "You could have taken me on trips. Maybe gone to a city. Seen museums, shows, eaten in restaurants..."

"We didn't want that," she said. "That's not the kind of people we are. It's not the kind of person we wanted you to be, either, concerned with all of those material things."

Echo closed her eyes, let out a breath through her nose. "You don't get it," she said. "And I don't think you ever will. So I'm not going to waste my breath."

"Good," her mother said. "Because we probably shouldn't leave him waiting much longer."

"Who?" Echo asked. "Dad?"

"No. Firenze."

"Fir... Who the hell is Firenze?" Echo demanded. 

"Your horse," her mother said, smiling at her. "If you want him."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Echo asked. 

"He's from the same line as Chiron," her mother said. "You loved that horse. You rode every day. I thought you might like to ride again. And you always said that if you got your own horse, you would name it Firenze, like—"

"The centaur in Harry Potter," Echo finished for her. She swallowed hard, realizing that Chiron, who had belonged to the commune as a whole, but who everyone had acknowledged was pretty much her horse, because he liked her best, had probably died years ago. 

"So when we got him, that's what we named him. We thought maybe someday..." Her mother's voice trailed off. "And here we are."

"Here you are," Echo said softly. "You didn't mention you were bringing a horse."

Her mother's face split in a grin. "Surprise!" 

Echo bit back a growl. Her mother was obviously so pleased with herself, thinking that she'd done something amazing for her estranged daughter. Thinking that she was giving her back a part of the life that she'd left that she'd actually loved and probably missed. 

She wasn't wrong. Now that she had reason to think about it, Echo _did_ miss riding. She missed the freedom she'd felt when she was young and would just climb up onto her horse's back and go galloping off into the fields and the forest beyond them. She missed the calm that would come over her when it was just her and the horse and no one around to tell her what she should be doing, how she should be living and thinking and believing...

But her mother was also failing to consider the fact that owning a horse was a huge responsibility, involving time and space and resources that she might not have. 

_Surprise._

"What if I didn't have the barn set up for a horse?" Echo asked. "What if I didn't have a paddock? What if I couldn't afford to feed a horse? What would you do then?"

Her mother sighed. "Are any of those things true?" she asked. "Because it looks to me as if—"

"It doesn't matter if they're true or not!" Echo snapped. "You didn't even think about them! You never think about anything except the moment that you're in, and how to please yourself!"

"The moment that you're in is all that you are guaranteed," her mother said. "I choose to embrace it."

Echo brought her hands up to her face, rubbing her temples. "Let's get him out of the trailer," she said. "Let me see him."

The centaur in Harry Potter was a palomino with white blonde hair. This Firenze was a dapple gray, but Echo could see as soon as her mother had led him out of the trailer that this was a good horse. She approached him carefully, not wanting to spook him, but he seemed unfazed as he took in his new surroundings. 

"He's basically bomb-proof," her mother said approvingly. "You said there were kids – your friends' and the little girl you'd taken in—"

"We adopted her," Echo said. She didn't know why she said it when she'd been hesitant to even mention Adria before. Maybe she still felt like she needed to prove how okay she was without them. "A couple weeks ago. She's ours now."

"Good," her mother said. "That's good. I'm happy for you." 

"Thank you," Echo said. 

"My point is, he'll be safe for her and any other kids to be around. Maybe she'd like to learn to ride."

"Maybe," Echo said. "I guess we'll find out."

Her mother smiled again. "I knew you'd want him. Let's get him into the barn."

Her father joined them as they were getting Firenze settled into a stall, giving his stamp of approval on the fences of their enclosure. They let the goats out to explore and graze, and stood leaning on the top of the fence watching them. Echo told them about what she'd done so far, and about what her plans were for the future of the farm, at least in the next few years. She didn't tell them about Octavia's plans to start a program for marginalized or wayward or disabled (or all of the above – they hadn't figured out all of the details yet) youth, or more than she'd already said about the possibility of having the whole family living on the land (if they wanted to, anyway) at some point. 

She was surprised when Luna pulled into the driveway; she hadn't realized how much time had actually passed. Her parents followed her gaze, and her mother straightened up. "Is that them?" she asked. "We would love to meet—"

"No," Echo said. "You don't get to meet them. I already told you, this isn't... I'm not letting you back in. When you let me go, when you didn't keep in touch, when you didn't make an effort... you gave up the right to be part of my life. That means you don't get to see my house. You don't get to meet my wife. You don't get to know my daughter. You made your choice, and now I'm making mine. I'm letting you go, just like you let me go. It's time for you to leave."

Her mother looked at her, blinking rapidly. "I understand the need to let go of the past, of bad energy, but—"

"But nothing," Echo said. "You're not listening. You're not hearing what I'm telling you. I know that you're human, you're fallible, you make mistakes. We all do. If we're lucky, we get a chance to make things right. But no one owes it to you to give you that opportunity. You can ask for forgiveness, but you can't demand it, and the fact is, you haven't even done that. You don't think there's anything to forgive. Which... okay. I mean it's _not_ okay, but it's who you are and you're not going to change, so I have to accept that." 

She began to walk toward the truck, forcing them to follow her if they wanted to continue this conversation – if it could even be called that. "What I don't have to do," she said, "is allow you to continue to hurt me. I don't have to let you back into my life. So this is me moving forward, continuing on the path that I set myself on at fifteen. A path that hasn't, doesn't, and won't include you. This is me saying goodbye."

"Echo..." her mother said. "This isn't how we raised you."

Echo smiled, her lips pressed together in a thin line. "This is how I raised myself. It's time for you to go."

Her mother looked like she was going to say something else, but her father's hand on her shoulder stopped her. He just looked at Echo for a long moment, then came around and offered his hand. "Good luck," he said, squeezing hers a little too tight. "You're going to be fine." 

Echo watched as they climbed back into the truck, backing around until they were facing down the driveway again. She watched as they reached the end and turned and watched until they disappeared out of sight. 

"I know," she said softly, and made her way down the hill toward home.

**Author's Note:**

> Although I think it's pretty easy to figure out from context, the conversation that happens between Luna and Echo in German goes like this:
> 
> Luna: Good morning, my treasure. Wake up.
> 
> Echo: No. It's too early.
> 
> Luna: Wake up. Come with me.
> 
> Echo: I can't understand German when the sun isn't up.
> 
> Luna: That's the point. We're going to greet it.


End file.
